


Reigns

by Christeri



Category: TDZ AU
Genre: Betrayal, Dark Magic, Infectious Magic, Kings & Queens, Kings AU, Magic system, Minecraft Universe, Reigns AU, Religious Cults, Usurpers, Violence, curse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:03:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christeri/pseuds/Christeri
Summary: *This is something I wrote for my friends, and I post it here because the character limit on discord doesn't like when I post my writing.* ((Dedicated to all the members of TDZ, I love y'all!))Long ago, a curse was placed on the 9 kings and queens of this land. They were to forever fight over the throne, year after year, century after century, undying, and unrelenting. Only a few know of the curse, how it leaves each ruler to be reincarnated over and over again, to take another shot at the throne, and to eventually be defeated by another of the nine.The Saprophyte King.The Redstone King.The King of Technicalities.The Space Queen.The Cruel King.The Lucky Queen.The Phantom Queen.The Pale Queen.The Harvest King.





	1. Prologue

Rainwater poured down relentlessly, flooding the beaten path through the forest. Boots formed muddy footprints as the soaked adventurer ran through the rain, clutching a satchel close to her leather chest plate. Eyes darted back and forth, searching for any kind of shelter from the pouring rain. An inn, rundown shack, even a cave would do… Thunder cracked in the distance, leaving behind a rumbling that was slowly drowned out by the sound of rain pattering against the surrounding foliage.

The gods must have sensed her misfortune because not long after, a cottage peeked through the dense trees, catching her attention.

The front porch had an overhang fixed onto its roof, providing some relief from the rain. An exhausted sigh escaped from her mouth, shortly before she thought to look for anybody in the cottage overgrown with vines and plants.

A few knocks at the wooden door later, and a figure appeared. They had a sweet face and quickly invited her into their home.

“You must be exhausted... Here, let me take your things.” A roaring fireplace began to dry her clothes and emitted a comforting warmth. The hospitable figure went into the next room, supposedly to set down the pack she brought with her.

The figure emerged from the doorway not a second later, two cups of steaming hot tea balanced in each hand.

“That should warm you up a bit… Tell me, why were you out in the rain like that?” A cup was placed between each end of the table, and a quick wave of the hand invited her to sit down.

“I was on my way to the capital. I have a message for Their Majesty.” The figure regarded them carefully, pondering something.

“Ah? Well, it's going to be pouring for a bit, why don’t you stay a while?”

“Thank you…That would be lovely. Are you always this hospitable to random strangers?”

“Only when they happen to be royal messengers.” The figure smirked playfully. “I don’t imagine Their Majesty would be very pleased with me if they heard I left their messenger out in the rain.”

A dry laugh fell from either person’s mouth as they cautiously sipped the piping hot tea.

A blanket of silence covered the house, both inhabitants falling quiet. The figure turned to an oil lamp on a table to their side, lighting it and illuminating a small area, and revealing their face. It was dirtied by colorful paints. The walls around them were then awash with light, showing many paintings lined up on the walls, portraits of people, scenes, of triumph, prosperity, betrayal. The only thing on the last canvas was a broken crown.

“You’re a painter?”

“Yes, it gets a bit boring all the way out here, so I paint my days away.”

“Do they… mean something?” The messenger gestured to the paintings, examining their strange nature.

A long pause. She almost wondered if the painter hadn’t heard them.

“It's a story, passed down to me, that goes hundreds of generations back..”

“Must be an interesting tale if you paint so much about it, haha-”

“Would you like to hear? You’ll be here a while because of the storm anyway.”

“Oh, of course.” The messenger put down her tea, and folded her hands, looking quite interested in what the painter had to say.

The painter poured another cup of tea for the messenger, topping off their own.

“Well then...Let me tell you the legend of The 9 Cursed Kings.”

 

_…._

_Long before we came to this realm, Nine people ruled over the land. They all shared power, growing the realm and creating a home together._

_Through hard work and lots of time spent becoming more and more powerful, they were ready to challenge the Ender Dragon, and rid the land of evil._

_After a long battle, They were successful in defeating it, but the outcome of defeating such a powerful being had its consequences._

_The one to deal the last blow, known as the Saprophyte King, and the founder of the group of nine, glowed with a brilliant light once the Ender Dragon had been vanquished. Falling to the ground, a strange rock-like plant covered the king’s arms and chest then finally encasing their neck in a glowing fungus._

_The other eight rushed the king back to the safety of the overworld and spent months trying to heal the sickness that had befallen their founder. Meanwhile, a portal had opened in the realm, and people from other dimensions soon populated the realm, providing the kingdom with subjects to rule._

_Even in light of their sickness, the Saprophyte King insisted on being crowned the realm’s official ruler, donning a pair of gloves and thick layered armor to cover the fungal infection, and put on a strong face for their followers. The others agreed, because of the king’s position as their founder, and the immense powers given to the Saprophyte King as a side effect of the sickness, powers that surpassed any being in the entire realm._

_Upon the king's coronation, there was widespread peace for a long time. More came to the realm through the portal, and the kingdom grew a tenfold._

_On a summer night, one calling themselves “The Prophet” came to the castle, demanding an audience with the king. They claimed to see the future and knew of the past events that only the king and the other eight were around to see. The king, being merciful, decided to hear out the prophet._

_The Prophet gave the king an unsettling smile._

_“There will come an era when all you’ve built will come to crumble around you, and your friends will pay the price of the past for countless generations. The defeat of our god has made you the bearer of the curse that ties this world together. I see betrayal, usurpers, and those who come closest to you becoming undone. Peace only lasts so long, my dear king.”_

_The king locked the Prophet in the dungeon for the rest of eternity, claiming that none of what they said was true and telling no one of the Prophet that lay beneath the palace. For years to come, the Saprophyte King lay paranoid, until time had long erased their memories, leaving behind a peaceful kingdom, and a happy ending for the nine kings, who lay wait to an unknown curse dormant beneath the grounds of the realm._

_..._

 

The storm had dissipated, leaving drops of rainwater behind, and a shining sun that signaled to the messenger it was time to go. Grabbing the satchel, now dried completely, she bid goodbye to the painter and thanked them for the tea.

The messenger reached the bottom of the oak wood steps, looking back out on the trail to the capital.

A dangerous thought entered her mind.

The king in the fairy tale. It couldn't have been them, could it?

No, after all, it was only a fairy tale.


	2. After the Storm

There was a lot to think about after the storm. On the trail back to the capital, the messenger mulled over what she wanted to say to the Saprophyte King. Best case scenario, the fairytale isn’t true, and she'd just make herself look like a fool in front of the king. Worst case scenario..? She didn't want to think about that. 

The messenger had run away from her hometown long ago, coming to the capital to start a new life. But that didn't work. She didn't know any trades, wasn't strong enough to work on the docks, and wasn't experienced enough to work with her hands.

The Saprophyte King found her in the garden one morning, admiring the flowers. But instead of throwing her in jail on the spot, the king smiled at her, telling her all the names of the flowers one by one.

Morning after morning, she'd come back to admire them. The Saprophyte King was always there to tell her about them.

Until one day, the king gifted her a single pale pink rose, offering her a position as the royal messenger, just so she could see the flowers every day without fear of being caught and thrown in jail.

The messenger didn't remember her given name, but she quite liked the one that the Saprophyte King gave her. Pale. It fit, felt more right than any other name did.

By the time Pale was in front of the palace’s doors, not a semblance of a plan was in her head for how she would approach this. Though, something had to be done if it was true, that the king was sick with some kind of ender disease.

The large doors made a long creaking sound when she pushed them open, and letting them close behind her made an even louder thud.

Not a soul was in the throne room. It was eerily quiet until the sound of footsteps resounded from the side hallway. The king entered, looking surprised at her presence.

“Oh, you’re back!” Their gaze softened, a hint of relief showing in their voice. “I was beginning to worry you’d gotten stuck in the storm..”

“Nope, just managed to avoid it.” She approached them, pulling the satchel off from her shoulder, and digging through it to find a piece of parchment, presenting the paper to them.

The king opened the letter impatiently, scanning the letter while Pale tried to gauge their reaction. She never knew of the message contents that she delivered, because of course, she didn’t dare try to read the letters before taking them back to the king, especially since most of the letters had seals on them.

“So, what does it say?” She couldn’t hide the curiosity in her voice, but the king just kept scanning, like they hadn’t heard her.

“Nothing really important, just some reports of a rogue group in the Nether causing some problems.”

“You aren’t worried?”

“Should I be?”

“Oh, I don’t really know, I’m just worried that someone might take it upon themselves to attack the capital, with how many rebel groups are popping up. Maybe we should hire more guards?”

“I told you already, I don’t like having guards around, they make me out to be some sort of untouchable dictator.”

“Either way, you should at least have a few modes of protection.”

“I have the Red Knight, haven’t needed any other kind of kingsguard for a long time.”

“You do know that the Red Knight is on an expedition to the Nether, right? He can't protect you from anything there.”

“Yep.”

Great. There wasn’t much point with arguing with the king, there wasn’t much chance they’d agree to change their methods of ruling after a whole century of experience. For as long as she’d known, only Gav, the Red Knight served as any protection from enemies of the king, and clearly, that wasn’t going to change.

There was one other thing she had to see to, concerning the king’s potential sickness. It was a short walk to the royal archives, especially after the palace had been downsized. It used to be a towering, spacious, royal castle, but the king had most of it destroyed, claiming that there was no need for so much space if only a single person and a kingsguard lived in it.

The amount of dust in the archives was nearly unbearable, but she supposed the royal record-keeper never had the time to dust, or never bothered too. Pale called out into the endless sea of bookshelves, hoping that he would hear her.

“Tsunday?”

No response. Defeated, she turned back to the door, to find the record-keeper himself standing right in front of it. She jumped at the sudden appearance, taking a few steps back instinctively.

“You scared me! It wouldn’t hurt to give me a bit of warning before you show up like that, y’know.”

Tsunday responded apathetically.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. What do you need?”

“Huh?”

“You must need something from the archives if your down here. I don’t suppose you just “dropped by to say hello.”’

“Yeah, about that, do you have any records from before the Saprophyte King was on the throne?”

Tsunday looked to the side, pondering before offering up a response.

“Nope, the only people who know what happened back then are the nine who were there.”

“Really, you don’t have anything? I thought you were supposed to have records on everything.”

“I do. Just not of when before anybody else was even here. None of the nine founders ever wrote anything down, so I guess you’re out of luck.”

“There’s really no possible way I could figure out anything of what happened then?”

“I mean, you could ask one of the founders, but you don’t seem too keen on doing that. Is there something you're trying to hide from Zo and Gav?”

“I can't go to them for this, and all the other founders are dead, genius.”

“Not all of them.”

“What?”

“Well, obviously, the king is one of the nine founders, along with the Red Knight, but you already knew that. The position of kingsguard is only reserved for founders, after all.”

“Is there anybody else? Zo and Gav might freak out if I told them.”

Tsunday raised an eyebrow but didn’t care enough to question it. If she went to the king, they’d know that she was suspicious about their sickness that they obviously wanted to hide, and Gav didn’t trust her enough to keep this quiet…

“I’ll tell you something. Currently, there are four founders still alive, including the Red Knight and the king. Two others are out there, but they left the kingsguard position long ago. The king hasn’t wanted to take any other guards since.”

That explained the king’s stubbornness. Nobody would want to replace their friends either. But, it was still hard to believe that once there were eight kingsguard instead of just the Red Knight.

“Can you tell me who they are?”

“Nope.” Tsunday nonchalantly said as if they weren’t just having a conversation about some of the legendary founders possibly being alive.

“You don’t want to tell me or you can’t tell me?”

“....” The pause that came from Tsunday was unnerving, to say the least, but in a second, he switched back to a laid-back tone.

“Who knows?” And with that last comment, he walked back into the maze of bookcases, humming an upbeat tune.


	3. Lady Luck

“Call.”

Face hidden by cards, a white-haired girl peered over at the number of chips placed on the table. 2 out of the 5 people at the table had gone all in.

“All in.” She pushed her chips to the center, trying to maintain a straight expression. Behind the poker face, she was beaming. This was going to be the most profitable game by far if luck was on her side as planned.

Fold. Fold. All In. The dealer signaled her and the others to show our cards. The moment of truth.

3 of a kind. Straight. Flush. She paused for a moment, taking in their faces before showing her hand on the table. Royal Flush.

Chaos erupted in the bar, cheering, yelling, exclamations. The dealer reluctantly handed her the earnings from the pot, and with one last cheeky smile towards the other players, she walked out of the bar with a saunter in her step. Behind her, a few drunken guests shouted about cheating. Lucky, they called her.

...

The marketplace was filled with noise, but not the chaotic kind that the bar was filled with. People bustled around, selling and buying goods. Lucky stepped out of the way of small children running past, giggling and chasing each other through the streets. The warrior that had been by her side for the whole trip to the bar fell in line beside her.

“That was a particularly bad day for us. In terms of customers trying to attack you, I mean. The payout was quite good from what I saw. Aren’t you worried?” The warrior’s face was hidden by a jackal skull, as it was every time they accompanied Lucky into the city.

“Eh, I don’t worry. I’ve got you, don’t I?”

“True.” The warrior drew their gaze to the booths in the marketplace, signaling they didn’t feel the need to talk anymore.

The Jackal had been Lucky's co-leader for as long as she could remember, having insisted on being her military advisor/co-leader when she founded the guild. Besides, it was comforting having a skilled warrior by her side all the time, especially with the growing popularity of their guild, and given her reputation. Lots accused Lucky of foul play, and no bar would let her in without thoroughly searching her for cheating devices.

At the edge of the town, a large tent housed the Opterune Guild, a safe space for any beggar looking to be cared for, as long as they were willing to pledge their allegiance to the guild. The guild now had over 5000 members city-wide, and the white-haired leader could be none the happier for its success.

The rest of the day was spent handing out her earnings to the guilds members, most beggars, and vagrants that were apart of the guild.

Sighing out of pure exhaustion, Lucky retreated to the leader's quarters, Jackal in tow behind her, closing the doors as soon as soon as they were both inside.

“We have a lot to discuss.”

She slumped down in a chair, letting her arms hang lazily off its sides.

“Do we haaaaave to? I’m so tired, all I’ve done is deal with the guild all day.

The Jackal smirked, folding her hands behind her back and crouching down to Lucky's slumped figure.

“I guess _someone_ isn’t cut out for being a guild leader, then. I guess you'll just have to retire.”

Lucky jumped out of the chair, jolted back to an energized state at the challenging tone in Jackal's words.

“Nonono- I’m good- What are we doing?”

Jackal gave a short laugh, strolling over to the map with poker chips stacked on them to represent enemies and obstacles.

“Our member count reached 5500 just yesterday. I think we have enough people to go through with our plan.”

“Really? Already?”

 _Had it already come so soon?_ It's not that Lucky didn’t want to go through with the plan, but nonetheless, its notion unnerved her quite a bit. “Are you absolutely sure that this plan is foolproof?”

“Storming the castle always has its risks, I’m afraid to say.” Jackal put quite bluntly. Lucky bit down on my fingernails nervously. There was a sudden wave of fear she hadn’t felt before now that the attack was so close. Jackal must have seen Lucky's distress because she soon felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, and a warm smile she could barely see through the holes in the jackal skull.

“You’ll do fine. I know you can lead us to victory.” The Jackal's expression turned more serious.

"Soon, we'll take the throne from the Saprophyte King."


	4. Espionage

Moonlight shone throughout the castle hall, giving the air a strange aura. The barely ajar door to the main chambers let a tiny amount shine through. Crouched over the desk, a figure crumpled up the latest version of herletter.

The sudden pain in her chest reminded her that she didn’t have much time to write this stupid letter. Grabbing a new sheet, shestarted again.

_Your Majesty,_

_I find myself requesting your assistance once again, even after all you’ve done for our city. As the overseer of Crescent Isles-_

Just cut the point idiot.

_The infection is getting worse._

None of it sounded right. She crumpled up the paper again.

\--

“I can’t tell you enough how careful you have to be with that, it's really important-”

“I got it, I got it.”

“Do you have the map?”

“Yes, I already double checked if I have everything, and Sunday lent me his map.”

“What if-”

“Relax, it's just a trip across the ocean, I can handle it.”

Sap looked at Pale in regard, as if they were checking to see if she was lying. Truth be told, while Pale had a map to the faraway land of Oasis, she hadn’t a clue how to read it. When she had asked Sunday, he told her to “ask one of the locals.” Then, before she could tell him that she didn’t speak Crescillian, the regional dialect of the Oasis, he’d left the room.

Telling the king that she didn’t know how to read the map would only confirm their worries spent on if she was able to make the trip or not. The yearly tribute sent over to the Crescent Island’s capital had usually been delivered by the Red Knight, because of his fluency in Crescillian, while Pale only knew how to say “Hello”, and how to ask where the bathroom was. There was also the issue of Red having thorough military training and Pale's crippling anxiety of fighting anything even slightly larger than her. But, now that he was busy on an expedition to the nether, she had the honor of making the trip.

The tribute to the Oasis was in an iron-clad box, decorated with gold leaf and the royal colors, a green metallic emblem on the front. Even from the mass of decoration on the outside, Pale couldn’t imagine what was inside the box.

Bidding a last goodbye to the king, Pale headed out to the capital’s port, praying she wouldn’t get seasick on the trip there. After all the king’s insistence that she would be out of my element in the Crescent Isles, some of it began to get to her. Sap had a point. She had absolutely no clue what would be waiting for her at the Oasis.

\--

The gardens around the palace were much lovelier up close, rather than behind the metal gated fence dividing the capital from the king’s domain. Lucky ran her hand over a well-cared for rose, the petals soft as silk. With how much reconnaissance work they did on the palace, she’d never seen anybody but the king in the gardens, not even a single gardener. Maybe the king took care of the garden themself? Of course not. The king was too busy for that kind of thing, right? She shook myself out of letting her mind wander. Right now, she needed to focus.

Months of planning led up to just the chance at getting inside these walls, and while she’d been putting it off endlessly, a perfect chance lent itself a few weeks ago.

One of the members of the guild had seen the king’s messenger leaving port, boarding a one-way ship to the Oasis. All they needed was to stitch the royal emblem into some leather armor, “borrow” one of the hooded cloaks used by royal officials, and Lucky had the perfect disguise. Just a few days before the actual messenger would return from her trip, Lucky approached the guard at the gateway to the palace, hood up to hide my face.

Her hand trembled slightly. The tired-eyed man didn’t look at me directly, opting to focus on sharpening his dagger instead. “What if’s” clouded her mind. _What if the guard wanted to talk to me?_ Despite their stalking of the king's messenger, nobody had a clue what she sounded like. Maybe Lucky could pass off as her in appearance, but she hadn’t accounted for the interaction with the guards.

Luckily the guard paid her no attention and didn’t bat an eye as she crossed the threshold into the castle.

Lucky immediately felt cut off from the rest of the world. It was so... silent. She looked back, expecting to see Jackal behind me. Nobody except the guard. She remembered their  conversation.

_“You really can’t come with me? Can’t you just pretend that you’re escorting me into the castle?”_

_She knit her eyebrows together, arms still crossed._

_“You know just as well as me that the king’s messenger doesn’t have any sort of escort. There’s barely any guards inside there, more than one person entering at a time and we would raise suspicion.”_

_They rolled their eyes behind the jackal skull, muttering to themself._

_“No guards... I swear, the king’s just asking for someone to break into the palace.”_

Lucky wrung her hands together, trying to calm the voice in my head that was panicking at the prospect of breaking into the palace. The large metal doors leading to the throne room towered over her, almost inviting. She turned, going around to the right wing of the castle. If their research proved correct, there should be a door at the far point of the empty stained-glass wing known to never be used by anybody in the palace.

Not long after, She spotted a doorway partially hidden by overgrown foliage. Turning the knob cautiously, She half expected a guard to be right behind the door. Her hand went to the dagger strapped to my outer thigh once the door was open. Nothing. The dusty hallway proved to be empty.

Lucky sighed, relaxing her shoulders and looked around for a staircase or any kind of sign of a pathway that would get her to the king’s quarters.

The other hallways were no less dusty than the right wing, along with signs of neglect and disrepair that weren’t visible from the outside of the walls. It was strange to see such a towering work of architecture be so...empty.

It was a great relief to come to a part of the castle to have some signs of life. Art decorated the walls, and the furniture and decorations were actually dusted. She had to be near the kings quarters now.

The deafening silence of the big empty foyers was no different to the rest of the winding maze of hallways. At least there was something to look at. She let her eyes wander to the landscape paintings of mountains, ocean fronts until I came to a group of portraits. Each one was painted with extreme detail, so much so that they seemed lifelike. The second to last one caught her gaze, stopping her stroll through the hallway and making her forget completely about the plan.

She had teal eyes, and colorfully dyed hair that framed her strangely familiar face. _It was like… looking into a mirror._ She looked as if she could be Lucky's mother, or a long lost twin sister, with how similar the features aligned with hers. There was only one reason this portrait could be in the royal palace though… I looked back on the line of paintings. Nine in all.

Footsteps.

Lucky darted behind a nearby pillar as the sound of boots on the marble floors reached her ears. Her mind had been completely taken off of the revelation that she looked eerily like one of the founders, heart now pounding as she waited for the footsteps to disappear down the hall. Once the sounds had gone, a breath that she didn’t know she was holding was let out all at once.

Stepping out of her hiding place, She barely noticed the portraits as she deliberately made her way to the kings quarters.

The door with the royal emblem on it stuck out like a sore thumb. She impatiently pushed it open, eager to get what she came for and get out.

Finely carved cherrywood furniture and neat rows of golden rings and jewels made Lucky almost hesitate to turn the room upside-down looking for it. Her fingers ghosted over the kings crown they’d left sitting on their desk. It was a bit surprising... _Did the king not want to wear their crown? Why would they just leave it here, collecting dust?_

_Selling this would bring in so much money for the guild...I could enough left over to donate to the beggars on Acacia Street._

_No, just get what you came for._

Lucky moved on to the drawers, pulling out papers until she grasped a leatherbound notebook hidden at the bottom of a pile of clutter. A vial of a strange liquid was tucked next to it, and in her rush, She grabbed it as well as the notebook. Now was the issue of sneaking back out of the palace. It couldn’t be any hard than sneaking in, She thought, reassuring herself.

Lucky fully believed in that thought until the slam of the door behind her made all the nerves in her body jump.

My heart stopped. A glance behind her was all the time she needed to size up the person she was up against.

Iron plated armor, and red embroidered cloth circling the waist, then looping around the left shoulder. The sharp, deep red eyes that stared back at me told her that her disguise didn’t fool him in the slightest.

The one part of the plan they hadn’t factored in, due to never seeing him around the palace in the past months. Even with all that planning, the Red Knight stood across the room from her, a hostile look that lasted a second before he lunged. Lucky spotted a dagger with a quartz hilt strapped to his belt, and her life flashed before my eyes.

_Think, god damn it!_

The balcony at the far end of the room welcomed her with open arms. She made a mad dash for her escape, vaulting the railing without a second thought.

Muscle memory kicked in, and she swung down a level, kicking in the stained glass window below, and falling to the floor of the hallway. No time to brush the glass off her hands, she just needed to _run._

The footsteps were far behind Lucky now, giving her a second to slow down and catch her breath. If it was one thing she had going for her, she was quick. But that didn’t help her sense of direction at all. The hallways all looked the same, she just hoped to god her luck would pull through and let her out of this place.

Lucky threw off her hooded cloak, not caring if she blew her cover anymore, while also tired of the restrictive movement that it weighed on her.

Now with her hood off, she was able to clearly spot an opening into the throne room, her salvation.

Salvation was too good of a word. The moment she dashed into the room, two heads turned her way. The king themselves, and the royal recordkeeper. His name was on the tip of her tongue, but that wasn’t important now. Only escaping. She spotted the exit, the large metal doors that led to the outside world.

Still sprinting for her life, she reached out to the doors, only to jerk herhand back when a diamond-encrusted sword swung in front of herr, barring the doors. Her tunnel-vision cleared up, and she could see that The Red Knight had gotten there too fast for her.

She didn’t want to look him in the eyes, afraid of the malicious glare she'd seen up in the king's chambers.

Lucky backed away, legs shaking. The only mode of protection she had was her dagger and the leather armor integrated into her disguise. Her heel caught itself on the carpet, and she fell to the tiled floor, like some dumb horror movie where the protagonist trips over themselves at the most convenient of times.

Looking up, she could clearly see the red eyes that spelled her doom glaring back at her.

“And what, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” His voice was a low growl, deeply threatening and venomous.

She couldn’t find any words to answer him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh its taking me so long to introduce Alex and Gal, I promise y'all will come into play next chapter my dudes-


	5. Purple Starlight

The stories said that the sun hadn't risen in nearly a century in the Oasis, A land of eternal night, they called it. Pale didn't mind at all though, the cool midnight air was refreshing, and the colorful lanterns hung around the town turned the street walkways into a kaleidoscope of rainbow light.

The people passing by spoke in a melody of confusing and confuddled syllables, some eyeing the box she was still clutching. Pale studied them out of boredom, noticing violet starlight shining in their eyes, reflective shards of broken stars swimming in the different beautiful hues of eye colors. Whatever was causing the eternal night must also have the side effect of the cosmic purple clouding over their eyes. Pale looked up at the sky, trying to distract herself from looking at the locals like animals in a zoo. The stars here were so much clearer than in the capital, every single celestial body she could see distinctly as if she was looking through a telescope.

The rational side of her brain told her to stop marveling and focus on delivering the tribute. Pale turned the box over in her hands, tracing over the royal emblem with her eyes like it might have changed since she last looked at it.

Abruptly, an unwelcome scent stung my nose and caused her to snap her head up instinctively, scanning for the source. It filled her nose with the metallic scent, reeking of something she searched her brain for the name of.

Blood.

It came from the main square, but everywhere was so thick with crowds of people that she couldn't pinpoint the location.

Her brain told her to run away, but Pale knew she had no choice but to enter the square. It was where the king had told her to meet with the Oasis official, after all. Everyone around her was shouting in Crescillian, faced towards an elevated grassy commons. The official was nowhere to be seen, so she resigned herself to search in the yelling crowd that seemed a second away from turning into a mob.

The source of the smell was almost frighteningly evident now that she could see what the people were so worked up about. A man kneeled on the stage made of rotted wood, a gallows providing a backdrop for the macabre scene that played out before Pale and the crowd.

Standing in front of the man, a warrior with dark metal armor and red streaks cut through the armor like sword slices. Everything besides the streaks and metal was dark cloth, making the crimson stains on the gloves stand out like a trophy of violence and bloodshed.

The man was bleeding from every inch on his body, yet there were absolutely no cuts on his body. The warrior was holding his hands up to the moonlight, glowing red aura surrounding both him and the man. Magic. It certainly wasn’t a common thing, but Pale hadn’t seen it in so long she nearly forgot what it looked like. But no matter what she'd seen before, nothing compared to how gruesome the image of blood magic was in reality.

Her eyes traveled back to the warrior, trying to shut out the image of the man’s essence being bled from his body. The short, layered, spiky hair, narrow, half-lidded eyes, and the ghost of a smirk on his face. He fit the description of the Oasis official perfectly.

Pale's intense fear almost overshadowed her duty, but her brain convinced itself that as soon as she delivered the message for the Oasis overseer, her job would be done and she could get off this backward island. She adjusted her hood, making sure the royal emblem on the chest was easy to see. Whoever he was, he wouldn't hurt her if he knew she was with the king, right?

She pushed through the crowd, finding herself at the steps of the dark oak gallows in no time. She could hear murmuring behind her in Crescillian, and several gazes bore into her back, nearly bringing her attention away from the shudder of horror that washed over her once she saw how quickly the official brought his attention away from the bleeding man and towards Pale. The expression he wore was indecipherable, to say the least. Pale brought the box before her, presenting it and hoping that would communicate something before he decided to practice his magic on her.

The warrior regarded her with that strange expression for what seemed like hours before he finally gestured at her to follow him.

The crowd whispered in suspicious voices even as she exited the square behind the bloody warrior. Pale could hear hints of rumors about an individual, someone spoken about like it was a crime to even mention their name.

Cruel is what they called him. Both in name and nature.

...

The house he led her to wasn’t exactly a palace, but it certainly stood out among the rest. A grander, more elegant version of the houses littering the island. The chiseled quartz glittered with starlight, even more than the sky itself, all whilst glowing with a magical, purple aura. It stood stark against the night sky, looking down onto Pale.

The architecture very nearly mirrored the palace’s entrance back on the mainland, with the same exact metal doors and braziers that glowed with magical energy. It sent a brief pang of homesickness throughout Pale, broken by the warrior motioning her to walk through its doors with him.

Cruel let Pale take the lead, shadowing her from behind as she cautiously approached the main hall.

The darkness that blanketed the house quite nearly obscured the frame of someone radiating the very magical aura that covered the entire area. They stepped forward into a patch of moonlight, allowing Pale to see them fully.

The first thing that stood out beside the overpowering purple energy was her eyes. If anyone thought the townspeople had strange hues in their eyes, hers put them all to shame. They glowed with a brilliant light, like two dying stars staring back at me. Her pale, thin, complexion contrasted to the palette of different magical colors in her hair. It was a galactic sea of stars, flowing off her shoulders messily and cascading into different sections of long curls. Sap had told Pale her name before, very fitting of who she saw in front of her. Space.

Space gazed at Pale with those starry eyes before speaking out a greeting in Crescillian.

She responded in a horribly butchered greeting that sounded half Crescillian, half gibberish. Pale cringed at her pronunciation, hoping that little slip up wouldn't make a bad first impression on her.

Space raised an eyebrow, speaking again in Common, hints of an accent on her tongue.

“I’m guessing you won’t be able to understand me unless I talk like this, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Pale flushed in embarrassment, knowing it was inevitable that she would have to ask Space to speak in Common anyway.

“Didn’t know I’d be getting a new mailman this time around, what a surprise!” Her casual, joking tone took Pale by surprise. She was talking to the militia leader of the Oasis, wasn’t she? Sap and Red always spoke so formally, it was different to hear someone in an important position of power talk to her like she was an old friend.

“Mhm, the Red Knight couldn’t make it, sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, kid, I couldn’t care less who delivers the damn thing.” Space's laughter filled the room.

She strode over to Pale, taking the metal box into her own hands. Pale felt a relief off her shoulders now that she no longer had to carry the box.

Space turned her back to Pale to sort through the box, obscuring the contents. Not a second later, she froze.

“This isn’t enough…”

Pale regarded her back, confused.

“Enough? Enough of what?”

“The formula-” She held up a glass vial filled with a strange liquid, with flecks of shiny metallic particles floating around in it, retrieved from the box that sat empty on the floor. “Nearly all my people are infected, I can’t cure them all with just a single vial.”

“Infected?!” Pale grimaced. 

“Don’t you know?”

Pale shook her head. Infected..? All the townspeople looked relatively healthy- except for the strange purple starlight in their eyes and faces so pale and hollow that she couldn’t possibly chalk it up to merely lack of sunlight.

Pale looked back to Cruel. He’d been silent the whole conversation, although she couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t speak Common or he was naturally quiet. She looked him over. No sign of infection, no starlight glow in his eyes, only two red eyes that burned like hellfire, radiating blood magic. In fact, he looked perfectly healthy, unaffected by the strange magic-like infection. Compared to him, Space looked as if she had the worst case of the sickness yet. It would have made sense if she shut herself up in here due to not wanting to further infect her followers.

But here she was, seeming perfectly fine, even joking and making quips so casually. There would be no reason to lock herself in here if she wasn’t sick.

Unless Space was the source of the infection.

All the magical energy in the Oasis, the infectious purple starlight, an island race of people slowing being consumed by magic too powerful wielded by their very own leader.

And of course, with her locked up in here, that would leave the official to his own devices, being second in command. Pale shuddered, flashes of the bloodied man and the townspeople just watching it as if it was just another day.

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Space spoke up, having been staring somberly at the box, contemplating. She seemed to have made up her mind on something, speaking to Cruel in Crescillian. He nodded and left the room.

“I hope you don’t mind another passenger on your ship home.” Space smiled broadly like she was making another joke, but it fell a bit flat, her somber tone showing.

  
Her voice then dropped to a whisper, something that no ears were meant to hear.

_“I’d only doom everything I've built staying here.”_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, an oasis is another word for a galaxy ;)


	6. Until My Luck Runs Out

Searing pain crept throughout Lucky's arms, and up into her head, sharp pain jolting her upward and into a sitting position. She stretched out her arms, now that they were no longer haphazardly tucked under her. Elegant green curtains and hand-carved furniture littered the room, a king sized bed sitting beside a writing desk in the corner. A banner was hung above the door, the royal emblem looking down on Lucky.

She jumped up, rushing to the door, twisting the knob over and over again to no avail. It was locked. She looked around for any windows, but the only ones were too high off the ground for her to reach. Not that she'd want to be jumping out of anything anytime soon. When Lucky had swung off the balcony, the only thing that saved her was that convenient window she’d crashed through to the lower floor. Even with that, she could still see the cuts on her hands from the glass. Her hands were bandaged up now, but there was no doubt she’d sustain even worse injuries if she risked jumping down to the royal garden below.

Memories started to flood back, removing the fog in Lucky's mind that overcast the last few… hours… _days_? How long had she been out for? Being cornered in the throne room, that intense feeling of fear as the Red Knight loomed over her, before swiftly knocking her out with the hilt of his diamond-lined sword. The sun shone dimly through the overhead windows, so at least she knew it was daytime. The room seemed a bit dreary with the lack of sunlight, but it certainly beat being put into that ominous dungeon everyone in the marketplace traded in whispers about.

Lucky pressed her ear against the door, not expecting to hear anything, but still hopeful that something might drop in her lap to give her some idea of escape.

Sure enough, footsteps. Two pairs of them, in fact. The voices were muffled but she moved closer, pressing her whole body against the door and concentrating hard enough to make out sounds.

“.....a danger to the crown……..why is she still being allowed to stay here?” Lucky recognized the deeper, more bitter voice of the Red Knight. The voices came closer, allowing me to hear them clearer. The other voice spoke up, softer, less defined than The Red Knight’s voice.

“We don’t have any proof. She’s innocent until proven guilty, Red. Could you imagine what would happen, throwing her in jail without solid evidence? We’re dealing with the Opterune Guild Leader, here. Her roots run deep in this city.”

Lucky crashed back onto the floor as her door was violently swung open. The Red Knight stood over her, regarding me with a standoffish glare. Lucky looked behind him.Whoever was the source of the other voice was gone.

“Get dressed, the king wants you in the throne room in 15 minutes.”

He tossed a pair of white garments at her, slamming the door behind him just as suddenly as he had appeared.

Lucky scrambled around, trying to get herself back on her feet. Get dressed? The only thing she had on was her leather armor and a worn undershirt. She was actually kind of thankful for the change of clothes. After all, if she was going to be stuck here, might as well be comfortably trapped. She checked the inner pocket on my armor, seeing the vial and notebook still safely tucked in there.

She sighed. Even though she had what she came for, now was the problem of getting it out of the palace. Frustration crawled up Lucky's neck, knowing how close she was yet still far away from the freedom beyond the castle walls.

For now, she had to play along with them. Trying to escape would only prove her guilty, and a bounty would be placed on her head faster than you could snap your fingers. She’d be forced into hiding, and there would be no chance of executing any sort of attack on the castle. Although the Opterune guild was influential, they were still primarily made up of beggars and the lower class, not knights and warriors. The only advantage they had was their strength in numbers, and that advantage had to be used strategically, lest it turn into mindless, uncoordinated rioting.

Lucky bit her fingernails, trying to think on how she would get out of the hole she dug for myself. The Red Knight and whoever he was talking to only needed some substantial evidence to throw her in jail. Who knows what would happen if the king found out about the plan to take over the throne...

She'd be lucky to get life in prison, and no doubt put Jackal and the rest of the guild in serious danger.

All she needed to do was put on a convincing act of not being the leader of an insurgency until she could get out of here.

_And how are you going to do **that?**_

_I don’t know, hope my luck pulls through?_

Ah, the good old “hope that she's lucky” strategy. It hasn’t failed her yet, so _why would her luck run out now?_

Remembering her scheduled meeting with the king, and eager to get out of the dirty armor, Lucky quickly shrugged off the leather breastplate, making sure to stash it under a nearby dresser so that the rest of its contents would be safe, and changing into the dress she’d been given. A hair ribbon dropped to the floor, having slipped out of the dress pocket. It had all the bright colors of the rainbow on it, contrasting to the pure white of the dress, yet matching perfectly with an alike rainbow ribbon that tied the collar pieces together.

 _Why not?_  Lucky shrugged, tying her similarly milky white hair back with the ribbon.

She teetered back and forth on her feet, trying to get used to the feel of wearing a dress. After all, her whole life had been lived solely wearing casual adventuring clothes or armor. The only people who actually wore dresses in the capital were rich ladies needing to maintain their “noble” appearance. Lucky looked at the mirror on the nearby dresser, nearly laughing out loud at the unfamiliar clothes staring back. Jackal and her would always make fun of those uptight women in dresses as they walked past the marketplace and yet here she was, looking like a noble herself. A short pang of homesickness pulled at my heartstrings. She couldn't bear to imagine Jackal thinking her dead when she never returned to the outside walls... Homesickness? No, that was fear. What if nobody knew she was trapped in here?

Lucky resisted the urge to nervously run her fingers through her white hair out of fear of messing up the hair bow and pushed that thought deep down.

 _Think confidently._ She threw open the door to the previously locked bedroom, willing herself into a complacent mindset.

The plush red carpet led her down to the throne room, bright chandeliers hanging from the ceiling to light the way. The wing was nothing like the dusty, decayed wings that she’d followed into the castle, much cleaner and more fitting of the image of the palace she had in my mind before she ventured inside.

The hallway soon opened up into a familiar, domed room with a ceiling that reached far above. Lucky was able to take in the atmosphere of throne room properly now that she wasn’t sprinting for my life, eyes tracing the gold-lined quartz columns that towered over her, making her feel small. Leaning against the columns was a brown-haired figure wearing tattered clothes and a green cape. They were inspecting something glowing a dark green, invested in turning it over in their hands over and over. A commoner? Maybe they were here for an audience with the king? Her eyes widened. _They could help her get out of the palace._

If she got the word out to Jackal that she was stuck in the palace, they'd be able to help her from outside. And chances were, if this person was a commoner, they’d be loyal to the guild. Most of the lower class population was, at this point, of course. She bounded over to them, eager to not lose her chance at escape. Lucky got a full view of their face once their head snapped up in the realization of her presence. They stuffed the glowing green object into their pocket, and turned fully towards me, clearing their throat. She froze on the spot once I saw the royal emblem clearly sewn into the chest bracer wrapping around their worn clothes.

They wore no crown, but somehow she could clearly recognize the Saprophyte King standing in front of her. Lucky's face dropped.

Lucky half-expected the king to immediately start accusing her of treason and theft, but instead, she got a careful look, like she was being studied.

The king stepped forward, and Lucky instinctively took one back. They knit their eyebrows together, looking down at my bandaged hand cut up from the glass, and finally spoke in that soft, toned down voice she remembered from the conversation earlier.

“Does it still hurt?” They were intently focused on her hand, dressed with gauze but some cuts still peeking out and trailing up her arm to more shallow cuts where gauze wasn’t applied.

She nodded her head way too quickly. Now that the king had mentioned it, the wound stung even worse than before, when she had her thoughts occupied with escape and the least of her problems was glass shards.

The king nodded and held out their hand. Lucky stared at them apprehensively before realizing it was a signal for her to give them her arm.

Just a few months before, Lucky imagined meeting the king under very different circumstances. She held the thought in her mind, a scenario where the king and her would act like bitter enemies, while some dramatic fight ensued. Instead, here she was.

A glowing green surrounded her arm, as the shallower cuts quite nearly disappeared, and she felt the pain of the injury become something akin to a distant memory. She looked down at the fading cuts, baffled. Lucky shot her head up to the king, her mouth hung open like she wanted to say thank you, but the words died on her lips. Sap didn't meet Lucky's gaze.

“You should keep the gauze on, as to not infect the cuts…”

Lucky didn’t even think about what she said next.

“When can I go home..?”

The king peered at her, a bit shocked at the question before they returned to intently staring at the red carpet.

“…...You should stay here for a couple more days, let the injury heal completely.”

Their voice was sincere, but Lucky could tell that wasn’t the only reason she was being kept here.

The king looked at her and saw her for what she was. A threat.

 


	7. So Many Years Ago (Part One)

_They called him the Prophet. He claimed to know the secret to godhood and told all who would listen, spinning his tales of reincarnation, multiple lives across many generations._

_Opposers called him a heretic, a cult leader of a melody of lunatics._

_Our founders refused to address the issue, turning their heads in hot shame at the mention of the Prophet whenever asked._

_If only they knew the reason._

_Before he was the Prophet, his name was Bucket._

 

...

 

An armored figure passed through the streets, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as soon as they caught sight of his sharp eyes and spiky hair.

Alex didn’t mind that they hid their face and scurried off like scared rats. No part of him cared if he was hated or loved, as long as they didn’t gawk at him like idiots like they were doing now. He frowned at a woman staring open-mouthed at him and smiled a bit when she hurried down the street, fear-ridden after realizing he was looking directly at her.

Zo had been putting off confronting the Cult of Ennea for months, but their following had gotten too big for comfort in the past weeks. To call it a problem would be an understatement. The Prophet’s following spread all across the kingdom, roots sinking deep into the capital's inner workings. Now, you couldn’t go outside without being approached by someone preaching his word.

The other walking beside him didn’t even notice all the people staring at Alex, too busy scribbling in a business ledger he’d brought with him. Sunday didn’t normally like doing errands around the capital, but he’d absolutely insisted on coming along today. For the whole walk, he’d just been frowning at the piece of paper, an intense gaze held on his face. On the ledger, was a complete account of all the criminal charges the cult had accumulated.

Illegally kidnapping and holding individuals in darkened cellars when they tried to escape the cult, assassination attempts on the king, even driving its followers to jump from the tallest bell tower in the city, and of course, tax fraud to fund their endeavors. That was the one Sunday was outraged by.

Alex knit his eyebrows together. Leave it to Sunday to get worked up over tax fraud out of everything the cult had done…

For the rest of the walk, Alex simply tried to ignore all the fear-filled gazes.

 

...

 

The towering blend between a church and military base stood tall in the very center of the city’s heart.

Alex passed multiple cultists on his way, all who greeted him with a sickeningly sweet smile and dark, empty eyes. None of them seemed afraid of him...

Or were they just not afraid to die..?

All of the cultists bore the symbol of Ennea, either burned into their face, chest, neck or simply cut into their skin.

It was to a point where Alex was the one that was scared.

Sunday was still absolutely fuming, eyes darting back and forth looking for the leader of the operation.

Sconces lit with a blazing fire lit up the hallway as they walked past, filling the room with a magical aura. The last torch was finally lit, coming ablaze around a dome-like room.

The entire room was now visible. Atop a crumbling, decaying altar, the Prophet sat, crossed legs and dark orange eyes beckoning them to step forward. He seemed immaculate, perched above all the sacrifices left to the gods littering the floor.

Sunday stepped before the altar, eyes sharp and accusing, and hand gripping the business ledger with white knuckles.

“Who do you think you ar-” Sunday’s face was red with anger but he suddenly went pale the moment the Prophet lifted a hand, glowing with a burnt orange magical aura. The aura was under shadowed by black particles, like thick ink bleeding from the orange color.

Alex’s face paled, recognizing a kind of void magic he hadn’t seen in centuries.

The Prophet didn’t bat an eyelash at him. His mouth turned up into a Cheshire smile.

“Sunday, Alex! My old friends~ How have you been? Ah, it's been so long, hasn’t it~ So nice of you to visit!”

The two were shocked into silence by his saccharine tone. The Prophet took that as a sign to keep talking.

“It’s kind of sad, really. I’ve been so busy here, liberating all these good people’s minds and bringing them into the light of truth~”

The grim smile he wore grew even darker, seeming to draw Sunday and Alex even closer. There was something about him that locked their gazes to him. It was a sensation filled with both hair-raising suspicion and a magical, drawing pull.

“Why don’t you two stay a while~? It’d be so nice to catch up.” The orange voids in his eyes swirled even deeper.

Alex felt an arm grab onto the fabric covering his back. Multiple arms. The void magical energy just kept pulling his conscience farther down, grounding him in place and keeping his arm frozen to his side.

He glanced to Sunday, who was also being swarmed by cultists. The color from his face kept draining, having no magical energy to fend off the void magic that floated in the air.

Alex refused to succumb. He grit his teeth, fighting off the shadowy ink that shrouded him. Deep red energy glowed from where the cultists grabbed at him as he concentrated harder and harder until his muscles were finally freed from the void paralysis. Alex wasted no time, reflexively seizing the sword sheathed at his side.

In one wide swing, he cut down the cultists around him, breathing heavily and sword now glowing with magic.

Every bone in his body urged him to get the hell out of here. He quickly finished off the cultists clawing at Sunday, now completely freed of the void’s influence and in his natural element of bloodshed and carnage. Alex grabbed at Sunday’s wrist, pulling him along as they sprinted out of the beast’s den that was the Cult of Ennea.

Behind them, the Prophet seemed to delight in watching Alex cut down his followers, fading laughter echoing through the hallways.

 

...

 

_Alex couldn't sleep after that night. Every time he closed his eyes, it was the Prophet's voice._

_“Reincarnation is a gift from our god. The blessing of eternal life, one that we do not deserve._

_100 lifetimes, you must live as the gods wish. Sacrifice, strength, virtue."_

_And on the final lifetime, you shall be reborn, as a god.”_

_Dark ink bled from the walls, filling up the void that he stood helplessly in._

_"I-I can’t breathe.."_

 

-

 

“Alex! Stop spacing out!”

A purple haired girl shoved another bundle of poison-tipped arrows into his arms. Alex looked around, speechless and head clouded with.. whatever he was just thinking about…

What _was_ he thinking about? It evaded him, fading away into his thoughts like a distant dream.

The sound of swords clattering, screams of agony and commanders shouting orders filled his ears and brought back his sense of awareness. The castle armory was alive with soldiers, swords gleaming and armor fitted onto mannequins all around him.

Galaxy inspected a sword, weighing it in her hand before shooting Alex a smile.

“You must be happy that we’re finally taking down those fucking insane cultists. Seriously, those guys should have thought twice before attacking you and Sunday.”

Zo had declared the Ennean Cult an enemy of the crown the moment Alex and Sunday came back with talk of how they’d almost been killed. The king might be non-confrontational, but was fiercely protective when it came to their fellow founders.

It wasn’t long before the Cult of Ennea, in a last, desperate resort, swarmed the castle.  
Galaxy smirked at Alex, tossing him a bow that glowed with magical energy.

“I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to get some revenge against those fuckers for trying to brainwash you.”

Alex smiled playfully back at Galaxy.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do with my afternoon.”

 

…

 

The cultists never stood a chance.

They had vast numbers, but they were unorganized and chaotic.

Once the last drop of blood had been drained from the last cultist, the Prophet arrived at the king’s doorstep.

He wore the same unsettling smile the day Alex had almost fallen victim to become another one of his mindless slaves.

The Prophet, no, _Bucket_ , said he wanted to tell Zo one last thing before he surrendered. Zo, still desperate to not have to strike down someone who used to be a friend, agreed to hear him out.

He spoke in a low voice.

_“There will come an era when all you’ve built will come to crumble around you, and your friends will pay the price of the past for countless generations. The defeat of our God has made you the bearer of the curse that ties this world together. I see betrayal, usurpers, and those who come closest to you becoming undone. Peace only lasts so long, my dear king.”_

Zo shook his head.

It was clear that Bucket was already too far gone.

All that was left of him now, was The Prophet.

“Take him down to the dungeon.”

Zo turned away, not wanting to see the look of pure insanity on the Prophet’s face as he was dragged away, eyes filled with the abyssal, never ending void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2 :D


	8. So Many Years Ago (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkVwuWH-woA Soundtrack for the chapter, if you want.

…

  
_Years passed._

 

_Silence lays heavy over the entire realm._

 

_They are mourning._

 

…

 

Colored lanterns hung around every single house on the block, wrapping around every street light and bench. Rain pattered against the houses, and fell onto the streets that were empty at this time of night, except for some crickets chirping a mysterious tune.

  
A rainbow glow reflected on the stone paths, illuminating small areas that faded into the pitch black of night. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, cyan, purple, pink, and grey lights, all bunched together and slowly flickering out.

 

Sunday couldn’t recall any sort of festival going on at this time of year, but then again, who knows what could have happened in the years he’d spent adventuring away from the capital?

 

He ran his finger over the faded edges of the maps that had been completely filled in after nearly a decade of exploring around the realm and documenting every single landform and town. Sunday quickly stuffed the maps back into his pack when he noticed the rain was smudging the lines he’d spend so long making perfectly proportional to the real thing.

 

Approaching the castle that had been his home so long ago struck him as a little nostalgic, almost comforting being back home. Sunday vaguely wondered how the others would react to seeing him again, but pushed the thought out of his mind, knowing that whatever happens, they’d be happy to have the whole group together again, especially Zo.

 

The gates to the palace were padlocked. Sunday pulled at the metal chain, annoyed he had to go the long way around the castle and get even more soaked by the pouring rain. He took off his glasses to wipe the raindrops off, before adjusting them back on his face.

 

Nobody but the founders knew about the backdoor through the castle garden, although it was usually never needed since none of them needed to sneak into a castle that they owned and lived in.

 

Sunday could sense a heavy stillness weighing on the air in the castle’s garden the moment he stepped through the flowering bushes. Moonlight shone through the leaves of trees and petals of flowers, illuminating a messy mop of brown hair through the fruit trees, standing very still, and partially hidden by overgrowth.

 

No matter how long he was gone, Sunday would always recognize that green cape and patchy clothing. He grew closer to the king, mouth turning up into a slight smile at the sight of Zo after such a long time.

 

Now noticing Sunday, Zo turned their glassy, red rimmed eyes to him, rainwater streaking down their face. Sunday’s face fell at the grim look in the king’s frown.

 

Zo had been staring at at 3 dark, stone obelisks carved intricately.

 

One had dark blue hydrangeas growing at its base, and an iron sword imbued with gold tracings was stabbed into the flowers. Alex’s sword, the one he never went without.

 

Another had deep purple violets, and a special star hairpin that glowed all the colors of the starry night sky. Galaxy’s hairpin, given to her by Alex at the very first Festival of the Moon.

 

The last one, fading pink water lilies lay in puddles of rainwater. A fading pink ribbon hung loosely from the obelisk. Christine’s ribbon, always tied loosely around her neck no matter the occasion.

 

Sunday hated to think of what these obelisks represented, but there was no doubt in his mind. They were graves.

 

He opened my mouth to say something, but words of comfort died on his tongue.

 

“Ghostie went after Protag when she left.” The words fell heavily, Zo’s soft voice barely breaking a whisper above the rain. “I don’t know if they’re coming back.”

 

“I mean, I came back, right?” The words that were meant to sound positive fell flat.

 

Any hope Sunday had of seeing everyone again after his  journey faded away under the rainy shroud in the castle garden.

 

_Why did he come back again?_

 

At least if he kept adventuring, that memory of everyone being safe and sound back at the palace wouldn’t be disturbed.

 

If he’d never came back home, they wouldn’t be dead, they’d just be... not there right now.

 

How nice that would be.. To just _not know._

 

Ignorance is bliss, some would say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to check out the writing notes! :D


	9. Songs of Vagrants

Smoke from the nearby blacksmiths rose in the air, singing the sounds of hot metal clanking against hammers and anvils. Traders chatted in between booths displaying cloth goods and fresh meat, rattling off prices and bartering valuables. The sounds of the capital after the week-long journey to the Oasis was music to my ears, a refreshing melody of familiarity. The Bloodhound parted the crowd with his dark glare, walking at the side of the Crescillian military leader who looked around curiously. Her flowing hair that bursted with magical rays shined much duller in the light of day, yet she still attracted a lot of stares that were quickly dismissed by the Bloodhound’s piercing gaze. I stayed slightly in tow of two, not wanting to attract any of the attention. In comparison to the foreign royal official radiating starlight and the bloodstained warrior, I looked like any other ordinary person roaming the capitals streets. The only thing that set me apart from the crowd was the royal emblem stitched into the chest of my overcoat.

 

I felt something tug my attention away from the two in front of me. Something about the flow of the crowd felt extremely off. People swarmed towards a back corner in the town like moths to a lantern in the night. The two in front of me navigated the marketplace confidently and deliberately like they've visited the capital thousands of times before. They certainly didn't need my help finding the castle, nor would they mind if I snuck away for just a few minutes. I looked back to the masses, curiosity tugging on me incessantly as I let myself fall into line with the other merchants, commoners, and traders.

 

The crowd navigated to an unseen road not too far from the marketplace. Vagrants on the side of the road shot me suspicious glances, eyes traveling to the royal emblem on my coat. Their hostile looks stabbed through me, telling me I didn't belong here. I weaved through the crowd, fighting against the waves of people. When I finally escaped the ocean of bodies, I stumbled onto the pavement of a side alleyway, darkened and abandoned. Scanning everywhere, I searched for anything to hide the emblem. A glint of metal caught my eye, drawing me towards it. A beat up knife was wedged under some long forgotten crates, waiting for someone to give it a home. I quickly grabbed it up, raising it to the cloth on my jacket and cutting out the green threads that wove into a tree, 9 leaves encircling it.

When I was done cutting out each thread, the coat no longer looked like a royal officials coat, just a tattered jacket that a commoner short of money would settle for wearing. Turning back to the crowd, I fell back into the crowd, rushed along into the street off to the side, hidden from plain sight by rows of trading booths. The street narrowed, myself getting even more claustrophobic in the ocean of people. After what felt like forever, it opened up into a large plaza, with a towering building in the center. People flocked to the building, and others headed to the trading posts littered around the plaza. I looked at the banner on the archway above the plaza, fancy calligraphy lettering above a four-leaf clover symbol.

 

“The Opterune Guild.” It read.

 

I’d heard of it before, the king had described it as the most influential guild in the city. It had gained power by earning the favor of the civilians by giving shelter for the homeless and food for the hungry. Nothing was out of place, and it seemed I was at a dead end. After all, it was completely normal for commoners to be flocking to this place. Yet, something still felt off. The tense feeling in the air, grim expressions on the guild members faces as they entered the large building. There was no way I could leave just yet.

 

…

 

It felt like I was beginning to go mad in this castle. Everything was quiet, so lifeless and still.

 

Behind every door was the same. Old, dusty rooms with some forgotten belongings from long ago. Fueled by boredom, I ran my fingers over the hem of my white dress as I walked. Searching the rooms didn't do me any good, but I had to do something besides sit in my room like a prisoner. It was the only thing I could do at this point. My eyes scanned the hallway once more, looking for any more boring dusty rooms to investigate.

 

At the end of the winding passage was a door imbued with red and gold tracings, the red dust on the door glowing faintly. The energy radiating from the door wasn’t quite magical, but it still hung heavy in the air and made my skin crawl with uneasiness. My hand hovered over the door, hesitant. I had no clue what was stopping me, but the muscles in my hand refused to move. My head went blank, with no thoughts coming to my mind. The red glowing energy filled my mind instead, making everything go blank for a brief second before I wrenched back control of my brain. I carefully pushed open the door, hoping not to disturb whoever or whatever was inside.

 

Vials filled with red dust and shards of glowing lights filled the room. The vials looked similar to what I’d seen in the king's room, only bright, bold red instead of the deep, vernal green. Chests of materials I’d never seen before were stuffed into the crevices of the room. I scanned their contents until my eyes fell onto a particular chest. Inside was nether quartz, netherrack, glowstone dust, and a single wither skull, all materials that were very hard to come by and sold for millions in the marketplace. I picked up a single piece of quartz and ran it over in my hand several times like I couldn’t believe it was actually there. I couldn’t even fathom holding this much money in my palm, despite all those poker game winnings I had to my name. Jackal usually had to help me carry all the gold coins back to the guild, but all those coins didn’t even come close to the value of a single piece of quartz. Stuffing the quartz back into the chest, I closed it tightly shut. Stealing something that valuable would only incriminate me.

 

I turned to rush out of the room before I did something I would regret. As I neared the door, my foot caught on something hairy and alive. Stumbling, I fell to the floor with a yelp.

 

The fuzzy thing let out a noise of annoyance at the impact. I scrambled to get back up, but something heavy weighed down on my chest. Whiskers tickled my neck and paws latched onto the white threads of my dress, a purring noise filling my ears as it curled up on my stomach for a nice nap. In a frenzy, I scrambled to get the animal off of me.

 

“Did that cat lead you in here?”

 

My heart nearly stopped beating then and there. The Red Knight stood above me, no longer covered by armor, He wore a tweed collared shirt, a vial of red dust and a socket wrench attached at his belt among other tools. If it wasn’t for the diamond encrusted sword, I could have mistaken him for a blacksmith or mechanic. My mouth wouldn’t move to reply to him, though the Red Knight took no notice. He strolled over to a metal bench and set down the vial of dust among other materials. I tried to shoo the cat off my chest, but it was to no avail. The cat was determined to stay perched right on top of me despite my clear unhappiness with its presence.  The Red Knight spoke up once again still not turning to face me, though it was clear that he was addressing me.

 

“She seems to like you, though.” I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing to be honest. Plenty of strays made their rounds around the Opterune Guild regularly to get extra scraps of food, but none were as friendly as this one. “It's a bit strange, to be honest.”

 

I looked at his back, puzzled. He spun around to face me, a vague expression gracing his features. “She’s never really taken a liking to anyone like she has with you. Even I’ve spent years taking care of this ungrateful creature and she hisses and howls at me like I’m her worst enemy.” The cat purred and nuzzled further into my chest, ignoring the Red Knight’s words.

 

“She's even destroyed some of my equipment in here, _multiple times_.” He mumbled the last part venomously, turning back to the mess of materials on the table after shooting the cat a glare that could kill. The pressure in my chest was released when the cat hopped off my chest, swaying its tail gracefully in a content manner. I stood up, relieved at no longer being prone on the floor. The cat circled around my shoes, brushing its fur against my legs occasionally affectionately. I bent down to stroke the fur on top of its head, feeling a purr under my touch.

 

“What’s her name?” It felt odd asking such a casual question to a man who tried to kill me not a few days ago, but without the Red Knight’s armor, he gave off a less intimidating, more thoughtful premonition, with his violent nature under better control. He was a completely different person to the one who’d brandished his sword to my throat. “Does she even have a name?” He raised his eyebrow to me, surprised at my sudden talkativeness.

 

“The name originally given to her by her owner was Novem. Though I usually call it “Sohanidd.” He paused for a second, observing my confused look. “It means “insufferable fool” in Crescillian.”

 

“Ah,” I said frankly, rubbing the back of Novem’s ears. The Red Knight fell silent for a moment like he was considering something.

 

“You know, you look a lot like her. Maybe that’s why Novem likes you.”

 

“Her?”

 

He ignored my question, letting his sharp eyes wander to the machinery on the table in front of him. For what felt like eternity he never looked up from the complex blueprints scattered all around, gears and oil littering the table.  Finally his gaze was pulled away, his stare boring into me as I tried to focus on the feel of Novem’s silk fur under my hand. My body tensed under his gaze, chills running down my spine. He stared intently at me, like how you would look at a specimen under a microscope.

  
I jumped at the sound of his low voice that shattered the silence of the room.

 

“Come with me. We should really catch up, you and I.” His gaze seemed to pass through me as if he was looking at someone else, yet his red eyes never left my teal ones, locked in a distant memory.

 

... 

  
  


People were packed together like rats, whispering and trading secrets. The whole Opterune Guild was a large, intertwining systematic network. Vagrants, laborers, and beggars speaking of tidings and info about and around the city. I stood in the crowd, blending into the mass of people but still feeling like an outsider. People flowed around me into the marketplaces, shouting and chatting. I stood still as a statue, no clue where to even be looking for information about the Opterune Guild. 

 

I couldn’t even begin to make my way out of the crowd, nearly being trampled to death every minute I spent sandwiched between people making their regular rounds.

 

A hand made contact with my shoulder, making me flinch in surprise at the unknown origin of contact. They pulled me to the side, under an overhang where metalworkers dipped their hot iron into water,  steam floating up in the air.

 

I caught sight of my savior, worried amber eyes with gold flecks and a voice that spoke so safely. Sandy brown hair hung in front of his face, and he was nearly a whole foot taller than me, with a strong build that suggested he either worked here in the metalworker’s forge or down at the docks moving cargo.

 

“Sorry, you looked lost. Didn’t want you getting trampled to death in that crowd.” He flashed an amiable grin.

 

I looked up at him, bewildered.

 

“What do you do around here? You don’t look enough a penny-pincher like those merchants or as finicky as the tailors.” He looked down at me, taking note of my under-average weight and height. “....You don’t look like a blacksmith either.”

 

I wracked my brain for a quick lie, some kind of cover for why I was here. 

 

“I’m here to deliver a letter.” I patted my messenger bag that was at my side, grateful for its familiar presence in such a foreign part of the city. 

 

I searched his face for a hint of suspicion, but it looked like he believed me. 

 

“Then I suppose I shouldn’t hold you up too much, should I? I need to get back to the Forge soon anyway.” He sent me a short wave of goodbye, and he turned back into the slew of furnaces and burning coals. 

 

My mind raced, arm shooting out to grab his sleeve as he strolled away. He turned back to me, a puzzled look on his face.

 

“Wait, I, I um, don’t know where to go…” I looked down at my boots embarrassedly, letting go of his sleeve. Hot shame rushed to my cheeks from not wanting to seem desperate for direction in this maze of people.

 

He scratched the back of his head, hesitant to be pulled away from the blacksmith’s area. Muttering to himself, it took a moment before he made up his mind. A slight smile motioned for me to follow him into the fray.

 

“You’re going to see Jackal, right?”

 

I nodded quickly, not a clue in my mind as to who he was talking about, but desperate to not blow my cover.  

 

I followed close behind him the whole way, trying not to get lost in the sea of people. I had a few close calls but managed to pick out his sandy brown hair standing tall above the rest.

 

I tugged on his sleeve again to grab his attention away from maneuvering through the crowd.

 

“What is everyone even doing? They all look in a hurry to be somewhere…”

 

“Jackal has ordered everyone to prepare weapons, armor, rations and wait for her orders. We just got the request for a tenfold of weaponry last week and all the other blacksmiths have been desperately trying to pump out weapons as fast as they can.”

 

I was scared to ask the question that jumped to my mind.

 

“...Why?”

 

His face darkened, an indecipherable gaze piercing through me.

 

_ Had I said something wrong? _

 

My eyes darted to the exits, like a scared mouse prepared to scurry away at a moment’s notice.

 

“…”

 

“Our king has ruled over us for centuries. None of us can even remember a time when the Saprophyte King wasn’t on the throne. Yet, the king rules us from his iron castle, never coming out. A total and complete power, without ever even speaking or seeing their subjects.”

 

He paused, stopping to a halt in the middle of the square. He was silent for a fleeting moment before he spoke again, turning to me.

 

“Doesn’t that sound like a dictatorship to you?”

 

….

 

_ Did it? _

 

To me, King Zo had never seemed like a ruthless dictator, only a reclusive king that ruled over the realm because none of the other founders still alive was able to take on the responsibility.

 

But then again, I’d spent most of my years running around the capital delivering letters for the king. I saw him often, while the subjects hadn’t seen an appearance from the king in years. 

 

...It was hard to believe anybody could know the needs and wants of their subjects cooped up in an empty palace filled with ghosts. The sandy-haired blacksmith’s laugh was low and grating like he was pointing out something obvious, dropping to a whisper, before he spoke something only for my ears.

 

“The Opterune Guild provides for us, listens to us. And so, it seems the people have chosen a new leader. Democracy has finally graced the common rats.”

 

It was as if someone flipped a switch. All in an instant, his whole demeanor changed. The ominous and sinister smile that quickened my heartbeat andmade my hands shake nervously melted away into an inviting grin and welcoming eyes.

 

“Oh, that reminds me. I never even got your name, how rude of me!”

 

My mouth didn’t open. I stared into those two pools of golden void he called eyes, no words coming to mind.

 

“You’re a bit shy, aren’t you?”

 

A sickly sweet smile that dripped with candy-coated words. He turned away from me, leaving me simmering in my own storm of thoughts that questioned every perspective I’d ever had about the king.

 

In my bewilderment and disorientation,  I barely noticed the change in atmosphere as we entered the crowded guild hall.

 

“It seems we’ve reached our destination, I should take you to Jackal.”

 

His hand wrapped around my arm, digging into my skin as he dragged me across the room to where an armored figure stood, seeming to be giving orders to the people who flooded around her. She had a chilling, yet apathetic look in her eyes from what I could see behind the skull protecting her face.

 

Those eyes flashed to me and the man approaching her.

 

I could see the instant recognition as her pupils dilated, two pin needles as she reached for one of the many blades hung around her belt.

 

_ She knew  _ **_exactly_ ** _ who I was. _

 

I struggled to wrench my arm away from him, sensing the obvious danger,  He seemed to only pull me along more. Panic coursed through my blood, and I clawed at his hand around the crook of my elbow.

 

When I felt the grip on my arm loosen, I shook my arm so violently away from his grip I thought it might come off.

 

Fight or flight instinct was all I had on my brain, and with the violent glint in that woman's eye,  there was no way I was fighting. Sprinting past the Forge, I spotted a pile of swords sitting next to the furnaces, waiting to be used. I felt sick. These people were going to spill blood all over the capital, rebel against the throne and maybe even kill the king. 

 

Who was I kidding? King Zo was as good as dead against that many people. By association, Sunday, Gav, and I might as well be pleading for our lives.

 

I turned into an alley overflowing with people, jumping over a stairwell, and finding safety in the small alcove under it. Heart racing, I slumped down against the cold, dark stone wall.

 

I had to get back to the palace, warn everyone

 

My head shot all around me, panic rising to my throat. I saw figures passing me by through the limited view to the outside street the underhang allowed me. Yelling and screams filled the streets as I prayed to whichever god could hear me.

 

My breath held tight in anticipation, as if someone might drag me from the safety of the underpass without a seconds reprise. But, there was only silence met with my heart that threatened to beat out of my chest.

 

From my hiding place, I could spot someone being hauled onto the wooden stage that I could barely see without coming out from the safety of under the stairs. I only saw the legs of whoever was being dragged on stage, along with the leather armored boots of the two people holding them by the shoulders.

 

The person was forced onto their knees by the two others, finally allowing me to see their whole face.

Golden eyes stared back at me, sandy hair cascading in front of them. The blacksmith seemed to stare through the crowd, a faint smile stuck like glue on his face.

 

The woman walked onto the stage, positioning herself behind Bucket.

 

I couldn’t see her face as she spoke, only her lower torso and the animal skull she held at her side, no longer protecting her head as a sort of macabre armor piece. No doubt if I came out of hiding her hawk-like eyes would spot me in a split second.

 

Her voice rang out clear and strong without the skull obscuring her face anymore.

 

“You stand accused of conspiring with the enemy, betraying the Opterune Guild code and thus, have committed treason against all of our brothers and sisters who fight for freedom.”

 

…

  
“Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

 

He was silent, and the crowd that looked on fell deathly silent, breath held in anticipation as they waited for something, any kind of words from the unspeaking blacksmith.

 

The skull-clad warrior stood perfectly still, waiting for a response. None came.

 

“Very well then.”

 

She raised her dagger up past my line of vision. His expression didn’t protest, or even reach for a plea of innocence. I felt guilt heavy in my gut, weighing down on the dread. Just being seen with me was probably enough to make him out to be a traitor, to be falsely accused of something he did not do.

 

But, he seemed happy.  _ Say something! _ My mind screamed out.

 

That unsettling smile was still on his face. He looked past the crowd, and his eyes fell on me, hidden in the dark underbelly of the stairwell. His amber, empty stare bore into me, and as the dagger slashed down onto the back of his head, dealing a blow enough to kill him immediately, I could see him mouth something.

 

Even though there was stretches of crowd in between us, the voice was crystal clear in the back of my mind. The voice was thick with delusion, no longer talking to anybody but higher beings.

 

_ For Ennea, I’ll die again in vain. _

  
  


...

 

The sun shone through the glass dome of the greenhouse, a pleasant summer morning breeze that brought with it the ambient sounds of chirping birds and leaves swaying in the crisp air.

 

Flower petals danced on the gentle wind. All was right in the world.

 

Vines twirled around the exterior of the greenhouse, bushels of marigolds laying at their bases. 

 

In the middle of the castle garden, hidden away by hedges and winding paths there was a simple greenhouse, mossy wooden benches and a table in its center, a porcelain tea set perched on its top. The greenery hiding the retreat away from the rest of the world was thick and luscious, alive with butterflies and bugs hiding against the many leaves. I felt like an intruder, like I wasn’t  meant to be here, in  _ their _ home, among  _ their _ trees and their flower-filled shrubberies.

 

The knight with the sharp red eyes sat across from me, a ghost of a smile on his face as he poured tea into my cup. I watched the herbal tea leaves swimming around in a swirl as the sound of tea pouring against porcelain filled my ears.

 

I’d had tea many times before, Jackal would always pick up a few tea bags to share between us when she roamed around the marketplace. We’d drink it on cold autumn nights, when the all of capital was asleep, all except for us two. Even so, this kind of tea I’d never seen before, with all the leaves scattered about in the hazel colored liquid that smelled of fresh mint.

 

I lifted the teacup to my mouth, gratefully sipping it. The herbs mixed together in a taste similar to that of bitter almonds before it settled on my tongue and coated it with a sweet honey aftertaste. The Red Knight watched me with lidded, calculating eyes, patiently waiting for me to finish drinking. As soon as I set the cup down, porcelain clinking against the glass table, his voice rang out casually from the other side of the table.

 

“I know why you’re here, even if you may have the king fooled.” At least he had the courtesy to wait until I was done with my tea. If I had still been drinking it,  I would have choked on it then and there. My breath caught in my throat, eyes going wide like a deer in headlights. His smile curled upwards at my reaction, the rest of his face unchanging. 

 

I winced. No way was I going to let him have the pleasure of seeing me squirm frantically at the mention of my true intentions.

 

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. I only wish to abstain any suspicion from my name and return home speedily. Not a single malicious thought in my brain, sir.” I ended my sentence in a teasing manner, dangling my innocent-until-proven-guilty status in front of his face like a cat toy. It felt a little dangerous, I admitted to myself. I had no idea what this man was capable of, but what kind of leader would I be if I was going to let him intimidate me?

 

I forced my wavering confidence to still, putting on a brave face that stood firm in front of The Red Knight’s lethal gaze. His eyebrows knit together, a frown on his face like he was annoyed at my stubbornness in not wanting to concede what my real ulterior motives were.

 

“Spare me your coy words.” The annoyance shifted into a flash of unbridled anger. “Tell me, do you know how deep the hole you’ve dug for yourself is?”

 

“Don’t treat me like a child. I’d think I know a little bit about how this city works,  _ sir _ .” I spat out the last word venomously, poison dripping from my words.

 

He scoffed.

 

“Look at you, hiding behind your battalion of vagrants like you wouldn’t be dead where you stand if not for a simple title of leadership.”

 

“And yet, here I am, alive.”

 

Conviction breathed confidence into me. I believed every word of it. The king and the rest of the royal officials had no idea of what the outside city held. King Zo’s last public appearance had been nearly a century ago, with The Red Knight being only a tad less aloof. I had the advantage here, and both of us knew that.

 

“What’s really important is that the king’s hold on the capital is loosening. You’ll have a revolution on your hands if you lay a finger on me.”

 

The Red Knight never backed down from a taunt. I knew that much about him. He was quick to retort, contentious words attacking back with swift wit.

 

“Trust me, I wouldn’t dream of it.” His voice trailed off. 

 

...

 

“But, it is quite brash of you to assume I couldn’t find other methods to keep you under control.”

 

I opened my mouth to counter but found myself short of breath. I took a deep breath, a wave of nauseating dizziness quickly snuffing out the small bit of air I had. 

 

“It’s appalling what just a bit of magical infection can do to someone who isn’t used to the effects of magic.”

 

I shot up from the table, grabbing at my throat as I felt it close up with infection. The sound of smashing porcelain on the floor was barely audible over the incessant ringing in my ears, drowning out the rest of the world. Tea dripped from the broken shards littered on the vibrant green grass. Flashes of red bled from the liquid, glistening in the sun that shone too brightly, too happily.

 

Redstone dust swam in the tea, radiating their dense magical aura.

 

Something wet washed down my face, dripping onto the grass under me. I brought a shaky hand to my nose, bleeding crimson with the same shining red flecks of dust.

 

My hand held in place, not out of shock, but because I couldn’t move anything. I couldn’t think. 

  
The Red Knight stalked over to me, He placed a hand on my shoulder, displaying a convincing smile that was stone cold.

 

_ “Your tenacity is admirable, but lavish ideals of revolution and justice won’t bring with it change and reformation.” _

 

_ “One day you’ll look around at what you’ve built and realize that sometimes this cruel world can’t be changed, no matter how many kings and queens fall.” _

 

_ “Empires fall, reigns come to a bloody end, and the crown is passed from hand to hand. The world goes around and around.” _

 

My mind was gone. His voice, his thoughts coursed through my blood.

 

_ A melody of fools fighting over the crown, but what for? _

 

_ Revolution? _

 

_ Change? _

 

_ Democracy? _

 

_ The fools fight a hollow battle, yet I stand among their ranks, reaching out for a crown that holds no meaning. _

…

 

The afternoon sun was almost gone when the metal doors that granted entry to the palace creaked open loud enough for everybody in the castle to hear. 

 

Zo hadn’t expected any visitors, nobody came to the castle anymore besides a few royal officials and tired-looking guards. It was very clear that it was not the latter by the overwhelming sense of a strong auras presence overtaking the king as soon as the doors shut. Sunday looked up from the leather-bound notebook in his hand, looking annoyed at the loud sound. 

 

Two silhouettes stepped into the throne room, armored with swords at their side. A tense silence filled the air, as the king cautiously eyed their obscured faces hidden by the darkness of the palace.

 

“Zo!!” The shorter of the two figures threw themselves at the king, nearly tackling them as she excitedly hugged the life out of Zo.

 

The king recognized those starry night eyes and long cloudlike hair that reflected nebulas and milky ways in its deep purple color. A gasp of delight came from the king as they recognized their old friend that was now smothering them.

 

“I haven’t seen you in so long! How’s the Oasis doing?” Zo paused, realization crossing his face. “Wait, you have a whole city to run! You shouldn’t be here-”

 

The purple haired girl rolled her eyes, a knowing grin like she’d knew the king would ask that question.

 

“I left one of my captains in charge, don’t worry.”

 

Zo looked behind her to see a dark-faced warrior, second-in-command to the Oasis leadership and the general’s right hand man. A worried look crossed the king’s face. The Bloodhound was always the only person she trusted with leading the city when she was away. She wouldn’t dare trust anybody else to run it, even in dire straits.

 

Something was wrong, but her content expression betrayed no information.

 

Zo’s thoughts were interrupted by the hurried footsteps through the hall.

 

The king was finally let go as his assailant went to excitedly greet the knight that stood in the archway to the garden.

 

She stopped in her tracks, smile dropping when she saw the Red Knight’s solemn and grim expression.

 

“Is… Is something wrong Gav?” King Zo could sense the palatable cold and walled off demeanor of the Red Knight from across the room, and raised his voice concerningly.

 

His eyes brightened in surprise, as if he hadn’t realized he held such a serious look on his face, before relaxing into a laid-back hint of a smile.

 

“Ah, nothing. I was simply checking up on the Opterune girl.”

  
King Zo and the foreign general relaxed as well, mirroring his lax smile.

 

“Oh? How is she? I haven’t seen her since I performed the healing spell on her arm.”

 

The Red Knight’s face fell back into a featureless tight-lipped frown.

 

“She’s quite alright. Trust me, I have it all under control.”


End file.
